


The Challenge and The Consequence Final

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:30:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7357654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you challenge, be prepared for the consequences</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Challenge and The Consequence Final

                                                                                                 THE CONSEQUENCE

                                                                                                       PART SEVEN

        Exhausted and ravaged, Justin didn't react when Brian collapsed on him. He barely managed a brief eyelid flutter. Even if he had the strength, he couldn't move—thanks to the weight crushing him into the mattress. Moving was overrated anyway. He could always move later. Maybe.  
  
                                                                                                            * * *

       Brian withdrew from the ass thatl held him in its grip, as if unwilling to let go, and pulled the sagging rubber off. He stared at Justin’s flushed face and tilted smile. “You are fucking amazing.”  
  
       The smile morphed into a full-fledged grin. “I could say the same for you _._ ”  
  
       He wordlessly removed the blindfold and wrist cuffs. In an instant, arms reached up but he eased them back down. “Roll over.”

       “Brian, I—”  
  
       “Relax. I just want to get the stiffness out.”

                                                                                           
  
                                                                                                           * * *

         Justin turned over without protest and cradled his head on folded arms. _So fucking tired_. Every part of his body ached. When a hand threaded through his hair and fingertips pressed tiny circles into his scalp, he couldn't stop a contented sigh. “Oh, wow.”  
  
       “Like that?”  
  
       “ 'Like' doesn't begin to describe how good it feels.” If he were a cat, he'd purr.  
  
        A gentle caress brushed away the damp strands that clung to his nape. He shivered as the cool air breezed across his skin, evaporating the wetness. Flattened palms kneaded his shoulders while therapeutic fingers massaged the knot in his neck. Little by little the tension melted from his stressed-out body. He could definitely get used to this. “Mmm, feels great."  
  
        His biceps and spine were next. He tried to keep his blissful moans to a minimum—the Kinney ego didn't need reinforcement—but Brian manipulated his flesh like an expert, working each area until the muscles relaxed and following up with soothing swipes of his tongue. Enveloped by a drowsy calm, he shut his eyes and reveled in the unexpected pampering. But subtle changes in the swipes sent an electric charge through the loft that tingled his skin and reawakened his semi-recovered nerves and cock.

                                
  
         A random coherent thought broke through his lust. What the fuck did he look like, naked on his stomach with his legs spread? When and how did he become such a needy slut? Yeah, right. As if he didn't know. He knew. He always knew. From the very first night.  
  
         But coherence disappeared when a wicked mouth snaked kisses down his back to the swelling curve of his ass and licked the cleft from top to bottom, bathing the crack in spit. Ripples of anticipation scurried up his spine as strong hands opened him wide. Like a predator circling its prey, Brian teased him with maddening flicks and pokes. He swallowed repeatedly, determined to endure the torment. If he didn't, he-who-must-win-at-all-cost would play dirty and increase or extend the torture. The man was fucking lethal. A whole subset of movies could be made— _Brian Kinney, Lethal Weapon_. He stifled a hysterical giggle. He couldn't think straight with the attention on his ass. Fuck, he couldn't think at all. Because he didn't have a brain left. He was the scarecrow in the bed of Oz. A stronger laugh bubbled up as he writhed on the sheets. God, he was losing it.  
  
         Without warning, the tongue bulldozed impossibly deep. “Fuck!” He lost it.  
  
                                                                                                           * * *  
         Brian breathed in the pungent maleness and took his time exploring the hidden recess. He nibbled like a man enjoying a gourmet meal and inhaled like a sommelier appreciating a fine wine. Christ, he could do this all night! But his ravenous libido had other ideas. He pulled out with the taste of Justin on his mouth and the scent of him in his nose. Sense therapy at its finest. “Hold yourself open. I want to see your little pink hole beg me.”

        “Brian....”  
  
        “Do it.” He reached for a condom and the position nudged his naked cock into a place farther than it should have been. He froze. _Fuck! Fucking God!_ An explosion. Elemental. Primal. The urges swept through him like a tornado as animal instinct took over his collective consciousness, demanding to be satisfied. Resist. He had to resist the heat, the wet, the _feel._ Paralyzed by the tantalizing notion just out of reach, his panic intensified at his inability to move. But his old friend reality punched him in the gut with horrific images and scenarios that drove the air from his lungs and the idea from his head. He darted away, suffocated by an emptiness he couldn't explain.  
  
        “Brian?” Justin’s tone was a confused cocktail of emotion.  
  
         Never. No fucking way. “Hang on.” Ribbons of sweat dribbled down his cheek as he rolled on the condom. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking.  
  
         Justin looked over his shoulder and pinned him with eyes blue as the ocean and words clear as glass. “Brian, fuck me!”  
  
       “Wait a fucking minute.”  
  
       “Fucking fuck me!”

        An emphatic shove of ass got him back in the game. He slithered inch by inch, rubbing against the rounded buttocks, and burrowed his nose in the crook of Justin's neck. Molded together, he set the scene for their finale with the expertise of an award-winning director. “If I were you, I’d wipe that smile off your face.”

                                                                                                  
  
                                                                                                              * * *  
       _Shit!_ _How the fuck does he do that?_ Justin groaned into the pillow. He hadn't been able to hide a triumphant grin when Brian got his message and moved things along. Even now, despite the ominous undercurrent, the words weaved a web of need on his flesh. He always seemed to be in this position with him —craving, begging, waiting.

 

                                                                                                THE CONSEQUENCE

                                                                                                PART EIGHT - FINAL

Scientific data (Hooyman & Kiyak 1996) has proven that the recovery time from male orgasm increases with age while the frequency of said orgasm decreases. However, the experts never had Brian Kinney as a subject in their research.

    

      Brian used his dick like a weapon, every shallow jab designed to intensify need, every taunting strike to incite desire.  
  
      Rubbing. _More_ rubbing.  
  
      Dark as the richest chocolate, he murmured, “What do you want, Sunshine?”  
  
     “Huh?”  
  
     “What do you want?”  
  
      Prodding. _More_ prodding.  
  
     “Brian, come on!”  
  
     “Tell. Me. What. You. Want.” Fueled by the fire of arrogance, his feral instinct reared its head. He could rein it in—if he wanted. He didn't. Not that he had anything to prove, especially to Justin. Christ, the kid practically came in his pants whenever he was near. But he had never walked away from a challenge in his life, even a childish and inebriated one. And because this challenge focused on two particular areas, his age and his penis, ego could be a wonderful motivator.  
  
      Pushing. _More_ pushing.  
  
      He rocked back and forth. “Tell me you want my cock.”  
  
                                                                                                        * * *  
  
      Justin couldn't sync his brain and mouth. He wanted to rest. He needed to rest. But even worn out and aching, his pulse jumped at the silky command. And so did his dick. _Fucking traitor._  
  
      When strong knees shoved his legs wider, he lost all ability to reason. “Fuck!”  
  
     “Last chance. Tell me. Tell me you want my cock.”  
  
      He couldn’t stand the torture any longer. “Fuck! Okay! God! Okay! I want your cock!”  
  
      The rigid length impaled him in one swift move. He cried out at the sting and squirmed to pull back, but Brian gave an animalistic growl and nipped at his neck. _That's gonna leave a mark._  
  
     “Brian, God. Brian....” He buried his face in the pillow. He couldn't form the words, couldn't find them in the maelstrom of sensation that had overtaken mind and body. An anchor. He needed an anchor to get through this or he'd shatter into a million pieces. He blindly searched and choked back a sob when he found it. Their fingers intertwined and he gave in to the powerful thighs slapping his ass, to the accurate cock hammering his prostate. Locked together like two dogs in heat, their inhales and exhales created a unique rhythm as they spiraled into an inferno of carnal need. He drove back and up, meeting every thrust. A hand snaked under him, gave a forceful tug and he skyrocketed into oblivion.  
  
                                                                                                       * * *  
  
      With the tightly coiled ball in his groin screaming for release, Brian withdrew almost all the way out and sank back in. As the pressure built, he wrapped an arm around Justin and hauled him up against his chest.  
  
     “Brian! I ca—“  
  
     “Fucking take it!” He raised the limp form and slammed him down on his cock with a gravelly grunt. Over and over. Rising and falling. He was nowhere and everywhere until an intense burst of pleasure plummeted him into the abyss and he came. And it was perfect. _Fucking perfect._ His iron grasp turned to jelly and Justin slumped on the mattress like a rag doll whose strings had been cut.  
  
      Still panting, he discarded the condom and snickered at Justin's dazed look and weary moan. The noise sounded like a whinnying horse. The kid was in a bad enough state that mocking his inability to keep up wouldn't register. He filed the comment for a time when he could get the most mileage out of it.  
  
      With Justin on the verge of checking out and his own dick on the verge of falling off, they weren't going to last much longer. He reached under the bed. “This is about endurance, remember? _My_ endurance. Since you’re so shit-ass positive your age is an advantage, let’s up the ante.”  
  
                                                                                                     * * *                                                             
  
      Justin couldn't do this anymore. He wouldn't be able to walk or sit for days. He was never drinking again. Why did he think he could beat Brian when it came to sex? He hadn't even recovered from the last round when muscular arms flipped him over on his back. “What the fuck are you—”  
  
      Brian cut him off with a warning shake of his head. He knelt between his legs and pushed them up and apart at the knees. “Time to see what you’re made o.”  
  
      The cool head of the dildo touched his opening. His mouth formed a silent O and an arched eyebrow in his direction kept it silent. No fucking way! He couldn't!  
  
      The pre-lubed silicone pushed in.  
  
      He could.  
  
      He winced as the toy filled him. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, maybe—  
  
     “Holy mother! Fucking Shit! Fuck!” The vibrations jolted him off the bed. He should have known! Why the fuck didn’t he know? Nothing was ever simple with Brian. The man had to take everything to the fucking extreme.  
  
     “That was the lowest setting,” Brian murmured. “This is the highest.”  
  
      He twisted in delicious agony, clawing and scratching at the sheets until it mercifully stopped. His thudding heartbeat slowed but sped up again as Brian lapped at the pre-cum on his shaft and the perspiration on his lip. Fuck, what was he doing?  
  
      With a gaze hot enough to incinerate, Brian straddled him and began a downward slide. Awestruck by the gasp-out-loud sight, he couldn't look away from the chiseled face, jaw muscles twitching in concentration as he lowered himself on the other end of the dildo.  
  
      Brian pushed sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “Okay?”  
  
      Wide-eyed and speechless, he could only give a half-hearted nod.  
  
     “How about a more vocal answer, Mr. Taylor? Will this help?” Brian turned the power on.  
  
     “Fuck!” He bucked and cried out from a place he didn't know existed, shooting a thick stream on his chest and neck.  
  
                                                                                                    * * *  
  
      The dildo hit Brian's prostate and ignited a blaze that curled his toes. Curse after curse tumbled out as he climaxed with a harsh roar. _How many more times can I come until I come without coming?_  
  
      He swooped down, grabbed Justin's chin with one hand, clutched his hair with the other and captured his mouth, hungry and demanding. The new position pushed the toy deeper and nearly catapulted Justin into the air with nonsensical shrieks. “Brian! God! Fuck! Don’t! Please! Oh, yes!”  
  
      He gritted his teeth. His dick throbbed, too heavy, too big. He was going to come. Soon. Again. He flicked the switch to the next level, sending vibrating jolts through his nipples, cock and balls like nonstop lightning along the network of his nerves.  
  
                                                                                                   * * *  
  
      Justin’s skin crawled at the keening howl wrenched from his soul. He was on fire—every pore, every hair, every cell. He would die if he didn’t come. He would die if he did. No more. No more. He was stupid. He was foolish. And he had to end it. “Brian, stop! You win, okay? You win! Turn it off!” He emptied both of them of every last drop.  
  
                                                                                                   * * *     

      Floating on the high-octane rush of adrenalin, they lay motionless, sticky bodies tangled in sweat-stained, lube-coated sheets—and each other. Like a warm blanket, the silence of the loft slowed their heartbeat and settled their breathing until they had the strength to move and talk.  
  
     “Thank fucking God!” Justin stretched his arms and poked him with his foot. “You awake?”  
  
      Brian groaned and shielded his eyes with a hand flung across his face. “Depends on your definition of the word.” He wrinkled his nose. “Christ, this place fucking reeks.”  
  
     “You do know you’re a freak of nature, right?”  
  
     “Lucky for you.” He gave a gentle shove with his shoulder.  
  
     “We should document—” Justin yawned. “Mmm, sorry. We should document our findings.”  
  
     “And who’s the freak of nature?”  
  
     “I’m serious.” Another yawn. “Before we started our ‘research,’ it was only a hypothesis.” Justin's cheeks flushed the color of blush wine.  
  
     “You mean a guess,” he corrected.  
  
     “Well, yeah, sort of, but a very educated one. And now we have empirical research to back it up.” The blush darkened to rosé.  
  
      How the hell could this kid go from a raunchy twink who loved cock to a giggling schoolboy who turned red at the thought in minutes?  
  
     “Research, might I add,” Justin continued, “that includes the soreness in my poor ass.” He rubbed one cheek. “I really think we should—”  
  
     “Justin!” Fuck! He needed sleep.  
  
     “What?”  
  
     “Say goodnight, Justin.” He shut his eyes and waited.  
  
      Justin gingerly turned on his side with his back to Brian’s chest. “ ‘Goodnight, Justin.’ ”  
  
     The kid didn’t disappoint.     

 

                                                                                       **THE END**

 

 

 

                                                                                        

       

                                                     

 


End file.
